


I'll Be Home For Christmas

by tea_petty



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: Lovino waits for his boyfriend to join him for the holiday -- but why is he so late?
Relationships: Germany/South Italy (Hetalia)
Kudos: 7





	I'll Be Home For Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr; tea-pettiest

Some people might have been surprised by the number of pictures Lovino had in his house; hanging on his walls and set on shelves and windowsills. In this way, his home was never without someone smiling at him, it was never empty, and so there was no real reason for him to feel lonely, he thought.

Toni liked to joke that he was always with Lovino. Feliciano, his dim-witted brother, thought the pictures were a wonderful thing since the home was a place to surround oneself with things that made them feel safe and happy. What could be more appropriate than to have tributes of the people they loved and that loved them? Feliciano said that there was a warmth such reminders brought that lingered long after it was lights out for the night.

Then again, what did that moron know anyway?

Alone in his house with a shelf of empty eyes staring at him made him feel studied in his loneliness. It was fucking humiliating!

Several of these glassy-eyed stares belonged to someone who should be here, looking at him,  _ seeing _ him. He was too aware of the man’s absence right now — it made him feel raw. He had half a mind to turn the pictures face down so that he could have a moment’s peace; though wanting of attention, he couldn’t stand a fucking peanut gallery.

What stopped him was one picture in particular.

The first of the ‘Ludwig photos’ to have made its debut into Lovino’s collection was one of the first pictures they’d taken together as a couple; it had been when they’d traveled to New York for work — one of the only places in the US that Lovino actually liked and one that Ludwig liked considerably more when Lovino was there.

A waitress had taken their picture at a restaurant their last night in town, capturing the perfect candid shot. Both of them were smiling — a detail that drew attention to the picture whenever Lovino had guests. Ludwig looked like he was laughing at something Lovino had said, one hand reaching up instinctively to his face to cover such a brash show of lightheartedness. His other hand was inches away from Lovi’s on the table, their finger, even in the still shot, looking like they were on the verge of touching.

Lovino could see the vulnerability reflected back to him. 

It was in his eyes — always in the eyes, as his  _ Nonno _ said. Those soft, sappy, pining, poor-dumb-bastard eyes. Lovino wished he could warn himself in the picture, of things like tonight — ‘ _ bet you feel real stupid now, eh? Sitting at home, waiting for your man like a sad, sixties housewife! _ ’

Tonight, the pictures peered out into the well-lit house, flooded in orange light, a conglomerate of the lamps and candles Lovino lit. Even the slate black of the windows at night were speckled with string lights on trees decorating the street outside.

There was still some panettone that he’d made and had been nibbling on throughout the evening, the sweet scent still awash in his rustic kitchen. He even had a  _ ceppo _ set up — something he hadn’t done since he was a kid — but something that he figured Ludwig might enjoy.

The little, wooden, tiered tree sat in the nook where the den area was sheltered by the stairs leading up to the bedroom. At the bottom was, of course, the nativity scene (Lovino had had to call his  _ nonna _ up to make sure he’d gotten it right), some fruit and nuts on the next one up, and then finally, an angel.

How was that for a damn Scrooge? He had Christmas spirit out the ass.

In the dining room, sat a nicely arranged, candlelit dinner he’d made a couple of hours ago, still chilling, untouched, at the place sets. 

Lovino hadn’t looked at them since he’d set them there and waited the vacant fifteen minutes for his boyfriend to  _ not  _ show up.

He could remember this feeling somewhat — not that Ludwig stood him up often, more so that he seemed to live with the constant awe that they were together.

Just thinking about it made his stomach flip. The need to be physically together again was almost enough to knock him on his ass.

Lovino could recall feeling the same way on their first date, waiting at the table, fingers worrying at the stem of his wine glass — and yes, with that poor-dumb-bastard look in his stupidly smitten eyes. Every time the door opened and he heard the maître d’s voice Lovino would turn to watch whoever came in to see if it was Ludwig. 

Whipped, or at the very least trained like one of Ludwig’s dogs. 

It had only taken three wrong tries before Lovino had spotted his date and had stood to greet him. They’d known each other for years, but never like this; they might as well have been strangers. Lovino remembered feeling stupid, trying to find new words to use on him. ‘Idiot-bastard’ would get him nowhere tonight.

Tonight, Lovino had sat at his dining room table, his fingers at his glass making their same anxious rounds, though, at the time, he hadn’t known why. 

In retrospect, it had been a premonition. In his experience, most things in his life were.

Just taking the bottle of wine, Lovino had defeatedly gone to the window and sipped as he watched night settle on his city. His fingers kept twisting the glass in his hands, turning it like he was wearing into the glass, his temper simmering, ready to nag at his boyfriend for being so unusually late — whenever he could be bothered to show up, at least.

That had been several hours ago.

The bottle was depressingly empty now while he was quite full. Full of wine and fully pissed off. 

His anger had soured with something else, something more frightening, something that made him wish he were just angry instead after all.

In the background, his old radio played the same Christmas songs on its tinny speakers while Lovino let it kill the quiet;  _ I’ll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me... _

The words twisted in his gut, ready to send the wine back up.

The sap who wrote that song was probably as pathetic as he was — always just waiting for the people in their life to show up. Always planning for that, when the truth was you couldn’t plan on  _ anyone _ .

People passed by in the street, plans in tow or with their arms linked through theirs, and Lovino knew exactly where they were going.

There was a big Christmas tree lit up a little ways away in the city’s center. People flocked to watch it dazzle and gleam well into the evening. A couple passed just outside his front window, and Lovino watched them hard, studying the way a woman tucked her head closer against her partner’s shoulder, their fingers twined. 

He’d wanted to show Ludwig the tree. They didn’t have a white Christmas – not like Ludwig was probably used to where he lived — but the tree was a magnificent sight and a long-standing source of pride in the neighborhood. 

Lovino couldn’t help but wonder if Ludwig would miss the snow this year. Is that why he was late? 

He couldn’t be that mad at Ludwig then, right? Even he had to admit that the first snow in Germany that year had him a bit weak in the knees — as had the man he watched it with, but he’d never say such tacky shit out loud.

For a moment, Lovino imagined the man, uncharacteristically sidetracked as he tilted his head up to watch one of many generous falls of snow in his country’s season. He knew for a fact that this Ludwig - the one sidetracked in his head - was fake. His lover simply didn’t get sidetracked, but it was almost a comforting thought.

Had he decided to stay in Germany, with his counter-invitation to let Lovino know that Christmas would be at his place instead, having gotten lost on its way?

Normally, Lovino was grateful for his country’s warmer climate, but in this moment, he’d have given his right nut for a white Christmas.

Regardless, it was another non-starter. Ludwig didn’t change plans last minute either. Whatever was keeping them must’ve been out of his control.

Next year, he’d grit his teeth through the slush and chill if Ludwig wanted snow for Christmas, he decided. He’d be sure to tell him first thing when he got here too – whenever the hell that would be.

The long hand on the clock on the wall was edging past the six — it was a little after 11:30.

Lovino went to the front closet by the door to shrug on his coat, agitation making his movements sharp as he shoved his arms through the sleeves and straightened the lapels. It also made the process ever so slightly tedious, each heated tug of the fabric creating another crease he’d have to go back and smooth over, only to have the measures that smoothed that yield another somewhere else.

He paid good money for this coat — really, all his coats — and took meticulous care of them. It shouldn’t have so many damned wrinkles.

Lovino tended to these methodically and kept his eyes on the front door the entire time. His mother had always admonished him as a child, who loitered by the stove with eager eyes and a yowling stomach, that a watched pot would never boil. As an adult, he was coming to understand that a watched door might never open.

His stomach pitted at the dreadful infinity in ‘never’ and filled this new, empty chasm with annoyance – at least that was familiar.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Those glassy eyes were still watching him right now and he still had to put on foot in front of the other, didn’t he? Being watched didn’t give something the right not to work.

“What a pain,” he muttered to himself. “That damned plane should’ve landed hours ago.”

Even if it was the holidays and everyone on the whole fucking planet was traveling to see their families right now. With his indignation, Lovino felt a sense of certainty; the floor underfoot felt a bit steadier. Not to mention, who took a flight on Christmas eve anyway? Especially someone as organized and punctual as his boyfriend?

Of course, that same organization and punctuality were probably why Ludwig’s boss counted on him to work until the  _ very _ last minute.  _ Cazzo! _

He would bring all these grievances up to Ludwig whenever he finally deigned to show up. 

He’d have the man snugly in his arms, and even before Lovino brought him into the much-anticipated reunion kiss, he’d drop all of these points at Ludwig’s feet for him to deal with.

Ha! Lovino could almost taste the satisfaction now. Ludwig would have to look him in the eye and tell him why he was late — he’d lost track of time, or that he’d missed his flight, or even that he just couldn’t be bothered to care enough to show up when— 

Lovino stopped himself right there. No — that wouldn’t be Ludwig speaking, that was  _ him _ . 

Still, before whatever excuses, Lovino would levy the charges; something he was totally justified in doing and of course, Ludwig would let him because, despite his somewhat uptight nature, he often let Lovino have the last word – as if giving his lover a victory was a victory in itself.

God, he hated when Ludwig let him win but he adored  _ that _ he did. Thoughtful bastard.

Lovino stared hard at the door with his eyes stinging faintly. He’d run out of creases to fix in his coat.

When Ludwig didn’t materialize out of thin air or the dark of night outside, Lovino felt his stomach drop with fresh disappointment and he hated himself for it.

What the fuck did he expect? A Christmas miracle? It was bullshit — he shouldn’t have had to hope so hard for something that should’ve already come.

He headed out and shut the door firmly behind him; Ludwig knew the spare key was kept under the flowerpot.

The warm glow from inside the house looked out and Lovino felt the chill even more thoroughly now.

From this vantage point, his house suddenly didn’t seem so lonely. In fact, it seemed less empty than when he was inside it. Even from here, Lovino could see the smiling faces in the pictures he had.

He peered glumly into the windows, catching a last teasing glimpse of the smiling pictures inside before turning to leave.

Pulling his coat tighter around himself, Lovino headed down the street, falling into the steady flow of foot traffic despite the late hour. Almost everyone went to midnight mass where he lived, and he had to pass through the city's center to get there — where the big tree was.

Lovino felt surly as he slouched along, falling into step along with new lovers, the roses at their cheeks the same color as their eyes when they looked at each other and saw a thousand forevers. Then there were the lovers who’d been together for so long that they now had kids and were no longer comfortably referred to as lovers by anyone, save perhaps each other, in their heads, in their kisses, and with each ‘ _ mi amore _ .’

This depressed him; Lovino had found himself as the first kind of lover frequently, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to make it to the second kind.

At the tree, Lovino only stayed and watched for a few minutes. The lights were glittering like stars close enough to reach out and touch. 

Several kids seemed to have the same idea and raced around the square, daring each other to stray close enough to the tree to run their fingers against the bristles of the lowest boughs. 

Lovino felt his mouth mesh into a half-smile; kids were funny like that, always finding something new and fun and amazing, even if it was the same tree that went up in the same place at the same time every year. 

His eyes stung a little with how the wind nipped at his face.

It wasn’t cold – at least not the way Ludwig would’ve measured it. Lovino was built for warmer climes though and without Ludwig to serve as his own personal space heater, he wasn’t very inclined to stay outside, even if the tree was pretty and the night gave him room to breathe and fret about where his AWOL partner was.

He stuck around long enough to watch one of the kids from earlier race back to his father, who tugged the rim of the child’s hat more securely around his head, before turning to continue on his way to the church.

-

The moon had reached its apex in the sky, riding on top of the world from Lovino’s vantage point, like the dim imitations people had in their homes at the tops of their trees. He wove in between the throngs of people spilling outside of the entrance to get inside. 

Lovino felt a wave of emotion well inside of him; the nostalgia almost enough to render him breathless. It was like returning to a childhood home after decades of being away, or else reliving a memory at his  _ nonna's _ .

He had gotten older — taller, more tired. There was no one around to threaten to scrub his mouth out with soap anymore. This, though, had stayed the same. Ageless. Timeless — a fractal of forever.

This was the same place whose midnight mass he'd been attending since he was a boy, and though he didn't much appreciate going to church during holidays then, he was happy he'd kept going into adulthood, just like his  _ nonna _ had told him to.

Despite its formidable, stately height and intricate carvings embossed in the stone, Lovino had taken to calling it ‘church’ out of his own affectionate familiarity with it, although it was technically a cathedral. If it took offense, it didn’t show. It was as beautiful tonight as it ever was. Stone walls were handy for turning the other cheek, Lovino supposed.

He arrived just in time to catch his seat, though still, he paused in the large narthex and stared up at the wide, dome ceiling with the mosaic stamped on it. The rich colors and biblical scenes stacked on top of each other like matchboxes, almost enough to make him dizzy.

The main hall split into three sections. Up at the altar, was the choir in their white robes flowing like angel’s wings dressed down for earth. 

They were already singing when Lovino sidled into the back corner of the left-most column of pews. He knew this hymn by heart – probably knew all of them by heart but rather than jump in, he let the wide, round sounds flood the hall, filling each crack and crevice of the walls, the spaces between the benches, and the hollows at the ceiling. The buzzing volume rattled his skull, dusting his worries momentarily away, at least for the time being.

In their place, a thought had cropped up in Lovino’s head, surprising in both its timing and existence. It had seemed such a small and trivial moment, hardly worthy of being a memory — that was, until now. 

It was funny, the way life worked. 

Truthfully, the memory probably wasn’t that important but now that Lovino was missing Ludwig as fiercely as he was and sitting in a church, he couldn’t help but think of the first conversation they’d shared, just the two of them. The first one that hadn’t consisted of Lovino chewing him out for always hanging around his idiot brother.

-

It had been a church — much smaller and inconsequential than this one, with a congregation of fifty maybe that all knew each other and whose kids all went to the same school. Ludwig and Lovino had been in the area, for work, and at church, by surprise. 

Torrential rain had been falling and the church had been the only open building around to seek shelter in. As luck would have it, both Ludwig and Lovino had found themselves huddled in the empty foyer of the church, their suits damp and hair slicked down against them. Their plan to ignore each other as they waited out the downpour failed when twenty long minutes passed, and still, the rain showed no sign of letting up. 

Lovino’s lips quirked into a smile without him even realizing it.

He could still remember the taste of those hideous, bran, health-bars, or whatever, the other man had kept in his bag ‘for emergencies’. Lovino had only accepted one because he’d been  _ so _ hungry, and even then, he’d complained about it the entire time. 

_ “You couldn’t have packed a loaded gun to put me out of this misery, instead?” _

Ludwig had been unamused at Lovino’s snippy comment.

_ “They’re not supposed to be tasty — they’re supposed to be  _ healthy _ ,” Ludwig had reasoned after a few bites of his own bar. _

_ “Yeah, you’re telling me. I’m eating cardboard over here.” _

Lovino had only made it through half his bar before he’d gotten up in search of something —  _ anything _ — else. It didn’t take him long to find a box of communion wafers and a bottle of wine in a quaint side room tucked around a corner. 

He’d settled back into his spot and unscrewed the cap on the bottle. He and Ludwig had reverted back to chewing in silence for a few minutes, the thin, crumbliness of the wafers adding a new rhythm to the monotony of their chewing sounds compared to Ludwig’s bar. 

And God, the thought of him — even  _ him _ — eating those sad, gross nut bars made it difficult for Lovino to enjoy the spoils of his cleverness in the past few moments.

Lovino took it upon himself to return the generosity Ludwig had showed him earlier.

_ “Hey, why don’t you take a break from your nut bar or whatever?” _

Lovino was unsurprised when Ludwig looked conflicted; yeah, the nutbar really sucked but chowing down on the Communion Special with a nice, heaping side of guilt also kind of sucked. 

_ “You didn’t steal it, so at worst, you’re just complicit,” _ Lovino pointed out before setting the bottle between them and taking the box of wafers up in his hands.  _ “Besides, we can do a quick confessional before leaving if you feel that guilty, _ ” Lovino jerked his chin towards the empty worship hall, at the front, which held the smaller offices where a priest could most likely be found.

Ludwig had looked doubtfully from Lovino to the box of wafers, which the latter gave an enticing shake.

With a sigh, Ludwig defeatedly wrapped up the rest of his bar in its wrapper before tucking it into the side pocket of his bag to throw away later. Then he had accepted the box of wafers from Lovino.

It was a bit ironic — Lovino would be taking communion alongside a ton of other people tonight, and still, he felt lonelier than that night he and Ludwig had sought shelter from the storm.

-

Lovino didn’t go to church as often as he used to, though he found at times, it could still provide some semblance of comfort. After all, there was a history of places of worship being used by fugitives as a sanctuary from the law, right? 

This was a safe place, even when the dangers were born from the tenuous inner workings of his heart. Lovino tried his best to feel at ease.

He tried to focus on the hymn and when the words wouldn’t catch in his head, he held perfectly still and tried to let the sound fill him like it did the vast hall around him. 

When it ended, everyone sat. Then, the bishop rose to take the podium, thanking everyone for attending before he referred to his bible to read some verses.

Lovino listened, trying to make the words make sense to him. 

_ “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone.” _

Lovino still felt very much in the dark. He’d walked to this very mass in the dark and despite the lights dancing around - that of his home, those on the tree, the candles lining the aisles here in an archaic declaration of peace – he couldn’t seem to feel the heat on his skin or warm himself by the fire. 

No matter how hard he tried to be in the light, it seemed to wick from his skin like water off duck feathers. The only thing illuminated to him was how hideously lonesome he was. 

Lovino checked his watch; 12:30 AM.

Was Ludwig at home waiting for him?

The bishop had finished the readings by now and was talking about Mary and the greatest gift she gave in saying yes to Gabriel – a story Lovino knew so well, it could hardly hold his attention well enough for him to distill even a modicum of a distraction from it.

If Ludwig had been there with him, he was sure he would’ve been paying rapt attention, even if he knew the stories as well as Lovino did. Lovino might’ve been content to space out and Ludwig would be there, a chiding elbow nudging gently at his ribs for him to pay attention.

He wished he had the luxury of being annoyed with his boyfriend’s straight-laced nature.

More than anything, he wanted to run home. 

All through the Gregorian chant, Lovino found his skin prickling with agitation. 

In Lovino’s head, Ludwig was arriving at an empty house with a cold dinner forgotten on the table. It took all the control he could muster not to leap to his feet and run back home – and even then, it might’ve not been enough if not for the one seed of worry embedded in his anxieties.

Worse than being alone at Lovino’s house, what if he wasn’t there at all? And if he wasn’t home by now then where on earth  _ was _ he? The excuses Lovino had stashed in his head earlier were wearing thin;  _ his plane was delayed. There was traffic. He had to work late. _

His plane should’ve landed at six. What could’ve detained him for six hours?

The more Lovino spiraled, the more he seemed to zero in on the chance that something had happened to Ludwig.

Communion was passed around; the bread and wine landed in his stomach with the same sickly churn it would have as if it had truly been flesh and blood.

He would’ve killed for one of Ludwig’s gross, stupid, nutty bars at that moment if it meant the man himself was there to offer it to him.

_ I’ll eat the whole damned thing _ , he thought, _ I promise. Just be here _ .

Around him, parents with their kids nestled between them shared in communion and smiled, the candlelight glittering off their eyes like the sky had tipped over and spilled stars into the cathedral.

Among the happy and grateful, Lovino felt completely alone.

-

Lovino left mass a few minutes before it ended and made the lonesome trip back home where his windows were as bright as he’d left them and just as empty. When he went to the front door, he was disappointed, though unsurprised, that it was still locked.

He slipped his key from his pants pocket and jimmied it into the lock. Stepping inside, the quiet of his house seemed to scream. 

Seriously, what the fuck? 

His nerves prickled, his blood chafing against the insides of his veins.

Where was Ludwig?

Lovino had half a mind to call the airline, or the police, or to go out and start searching for himself – something,  _ anything _ .

Lovino caught the bald face of his clock, where the minute hand struck dread so deep into him, he felt it rattle his marrow. 

It was a little after one now and officially Christmas.

The candles at the dining room table had gone out, leaving dinner in even more depressing circumstances than when he’d first left. The radio, which Lovino had forgotten to turn off, had been playing for so long, it was looping through the same songs he had weathered earlier.

His home suddenly felt suffocatingly small. He checked the clock again just to make sure it wasn’t actually six again. He wasn’t sure if it was supposed to make him feel better or worse.

Lovino felt all out of sorts, the evening’s amassed annoyance at his boyfriend’s tardiness revealing itself for what it truly was – worry. Sharp, ragged, and wedged between his ribs like broken glass, Lovino felt like his heart was pounding. The glass pressed further into him, the blood in his ears roaring, making him dizzy with how it raced through him.

There was a knock at the door that took Lovino a few moments to recognize; his body jolted, his heart hammered with bated expectancy and for a second, he mistook it for the  _ thud-thud-thud _ at his door. 

Understandable, given how trapped inside himself he was at that moment.

He went to the door, though his stomach had turned over and settled in its dread once more. This couldn’t have been Ludwig because Ludwig wouldn’t have knocked and even if he had, it would’ve been far heavier a sound than the light rap Lovino had heard.

He cracked the door open and was surprised to see no one was there...at first. 

Opening the door fully to further investigate, his eyes fell on the wool cap of the little boy from earlier peering up at him from his doorstep. Lovino’s brow lifted in surprise, mirroring the boy’s expression. Up close, he couldn’t have been much older than eight.

“You’re not my  _ nonna _ .”

Lovino leaned heavily against the door frame and crossed his arms.

“No, I’m definitely not,” he confirmed with one raised eyebrow. “You lost or something?”

The kid blinked at him, not afraid from what Lovino could see — just helplessly confused, the way kids could be.

“My  _ papà _ said  _ nonna _ lived here.”

“Well, she doesn’t.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Thanks.”

The corner of Lovino’s mouth twitched.  _ This brat! _ He thought, in equal parts annoyance and amusement.

“Do you know how to get home from here?”

“I do, but no one’s there. They’re at _ nonna’s _ .”

“Why aren’t you with them?”

The boy frowned.

“They let me leave mass early to go to  _ nonna’s _ .”

“Did you check back there?”

“Mass has been over for _ ages _ .”

It had only been a few minutes, but whatever.

“Did you want to use the phone to call them?”

“I don’t know the number.”

Lovino stared at the boy, a little exasperated now. What was he, a fairy godmother? What was with people not showing up to where they were supposed to be tonight? Lovino imagined Ludwig on some old woman’s doorstep, her withered and rouged smile faltering when it was a strapping, blonde man at the door, instead of her grandson.

Now  _ that _ would be a story they could tell for years to come.

“What do you mean you don’t know the number? What do you do when you get lost?”

Now the kid was crossing his arms.

“Well, gee, it’s not like I get lost every  _ day _ .”

He said this like it should’ve been obvious.

“And yet here we are. Then, did your  _ papà _ tell you to look for a number on the house?”

“He did but I forgot it.”

The boy blinked back, completely oblivious to the absolute perfection of his uselessness.

“What did you go and do that for?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

Lovino sighed. He couldn’t very well just leave some kid outside this late while he was lost.

“Right, come on then.” 

Lovino stepped out of his house and shut the door firmly behind him. “Let’s go find your family, ah – what’s your name?”

“Leonardo.”

“Let’s go find your family, Leonardo. Are you sure that your  _ nonna _ lives on this street?”

Leonardo bobbed his head in confirmation.

“Her house looks a lot like yours, except there are more people, so it’s less sad.”

Lovino tried not to let this get to him.

“Great,” he said dryly. “Anything else?”

“She usually puts an angel on her door.”

This struck Lovino as familiar – on the other side of the block, there was a house that always had an angel on its door this time of year. Lovino wracked his memory, trying to remember if he’d ever spoken to who lived there. 

After a few minutes, it came to him – an older woman who seemed to be shrinking into her age and who regularly exchanged cooked goods in return for household chores.

“Mrs. Greco wouldn’t happen to be your  _ nonna _ , would she?”

Leonardo’s eyes lit up. 

“It is! That’s her! Do you know her?”

“Yeah, I do,” Lovino gave Leonardo an admonishing look. “She lives on the  _ other _ side of the street.”

“Oh. Oops.”

“Yeah, ‘oops’. It didn’t tip you off when you didn’t see an angel on my door?”

“I dunno, I guess I thought maybe she forgot or something.” Leonardo seemed wholly unbothered at the turn of events the night had taken.

Lovino wondered just how far youthful naivete could go for this kid to possibly mistake his home for Mrs. Greco’s. The woman was somewhat of an institution in their neighborhood.

“Come on then, your family's probably worried about you by now.”

Lovino headed down the main street, where the turnoff that would allow them onto the other side of the row of apartments nestled together was only a few units away. 

Leonardo fell into step easily with Lovino, his little skip-walk giving him somewhat of a bounce in his step.

“Hey, mister, what’s your name?”

“Lovino.”

Leonardo wrinkled his nose and laughed.

“That’s a funny name.”

Lovino glared at Leonardo though it was wasted on the crown of his head. 

“Did anyone ever tell you, you shouldn’t talk to strangers?”

Leonardo looked up at him.

“Yeah, because they might be dangerous, right?”

“Yeah. Or you might say something stupid.”

Leonardo laughed, a wide, leaping sound that seemed to ricochet off the twisted, cobblestone streets. 

-

Leonardo’s family worried, as expected, with his father cuffing him affectionately on the back of the head, sending him straight into Nonna Greco’s plump arms. His mother pulls Lovino into a tight hug, grateful that a kind stranger has gone out of his way to ensure her son safely home.

“How can I thank you?”

Lovino endures the period of gratitude; ten minutes at their doorstep with Nonna Greco trying to push homemade almond tarts into his hands.

No, no food, no money, no thanks needed – just, if you happen to find a very late German running around, to send him Lovino’s way.

He didn’t realize he said this last part aloud until Mr. Greco agrees with a good-natured laugh.

Back at home, Lovino shuts the door tight behind him and slides his shoes off on the rug in the front hall. A tenuous drizzle has started outside, in the wee hours of Christmas Day, and still, Lovino’s home is as he’d left it – empty.

He goes to his place by the window from earlier, ignoring his long-forgotten glass of wine. The phone catches his eye from its hook on the wall. It’s quiet, but had it been like that all night? The thought of the phone ringing in an empty house while he'd been out brings a new round of anxieties simmering in him. Lovino bounces his leg. There seems to be no more room in his body for his agitation to settle. 

It’s almost two now. 

The same questions remain, and as the minutes tick by, Lovino feels as if the number of reasonable answers dwindles.

Lovino can’t take it anymore. He gets to his feet and goes to the phone. 

For a second he feels productive, like perhaps when he sees Ludwig again is something he  _ can  _ control. Now at the phone, he can only look at it, distraught. He has no idea who to call and honestly, who will answer this time of night anyway, especially on Christmas?

Lovino slides his cellphone from his back pocket, not only rendering his big, symbolic lunge to the landline obsolete but also a waste of energy. 

After a couple of moments, he decides on calling the airline to see if there really was some big delay. 

There is a series of taps from his fingers and then he is holding the device to his ear.

It rings three times and then surprise-surprise; there is a friendly, albeit clinical, voice explaining that there is no one around to answer, before ever-so-helpfully relaying the usual hours of operation – hours that of course, might differ during holidays, like Christmas, for example. He wants to throw his fucking phone and quiet the placating voice on the other end.

Fucking stupid, useless, ass-fucking, bastard airline, and it’s fucking stupid, useless, ass-fucking, bastard policies.

Lovino is still listening to this voice when his front door opens.

He doesn’t notice it at first. Not the sound of the doorknob turning nor the creak of the door. Lovino is too focused on the voice on the phone, on hating it in the wake of being the final nail in the coffin of his failed expectations for the night.

It isn’t until the door hits the wall at the end of its swing – a result of the new arrival’s full arms rather than his carelessness – that Lovino turns.

At once, his face opens, lifting into a look of shock. The voice on the line is still reciting its lengthy spiel, though it lands on deaf ears. 

At the door, his blonde hair uncharacteristically disheveled, his face drawn in fatigue despite how his lips upturn anyway, is Ludwig.

“Hey.”

Lovino can’t answer, at least not right away. He is frozen, his fingers so tense that his skin whitens over his knuckles, his grip on his phone threatening to turn it to dust. Some intangible sentiment that feels a lot like ‘ _ fuck, it’s about  _ time’ but in not so many words, or even any words at all, wells inside of him.

His eyes are stinging and at the back of his mind, he knows this is dumb. He  _ feels _ dumb. He also feels incredibly relieved. Every terrible scenario that has run through his mind for the past seven hours has been proven wrong with this man’s presence at his home right now.

Lovino still hasn’t answered and Ludwig’s expression breaks into one of worry, his brow pulling into a furrow.

“Ah, I know I’m late. I’m sorry. My flight was delayed and then even when we landed we were stuck—”

Lovino can barely focus on his words. His chest is heavy with all the things he’s felt tonight, all the anxieties he’s fanned and insecurities he’s let run loose in his head.

He’s been worried sick! 

Ludwig said six and it was already almost two!

If Ludwig had shown up even an hour ago, his temper might’ve boiled over and he might’ve asked his boyfriend point blank, just where the fuck he’d been all night, with the expectation that whatever explanation came next, had better been good.

Lovino is tired now though. 

It’s late – a fact that leadens his limbs from his marrow outward. 

He’s heart-tired too. He has no energy to be indignant or righteously upset, nor has he the will to stave off his yearning for the other man. 

It pulls at him in a way that is near-physical now that his presence isn’t just a wish, but reality.

Lovino goes over to Ludwig, who sets both of his bags down and lets Ludwig draw him into a tight hug. 

Fuck, he’s as solid and firm as Lovino remembers — and his  _ scent;  _ the sharpness of his aftershave, still so pungent even after the flight and series of inconveniences that delayed him after.

A deep, harrowing ache pangs in Lovino’s chest; an emptiness is being filled and any resulting discomfort is his body adjusting to no longer needing to shrink into itself to compensate for what it lacks. He feels stretched tight, his hands hold Ludwig for real, his face buried into the front of his sweater.

Lovino sags heavily against Ludwig for a few moments and then reaches around his waist to grab and guide Ludwig’s hands, which have been gripped firmly at his back. Lovino can feel Ludwig’s curiosity as he guides his hands from around him and upwards, but again, he lacks the energy to respond. 

Besides, he’d been left alone with his questions beating at the inside of his skull for hours, surely, Ludwig can wait a few measly seconds.

Lovino separates from Ludwig just enough to bring the man’s hands to his face so that they’re cupped gently at his jaw, and his own, cupped over Ludwig’s. 

His fingers are cold against his skin, which freshens his scent in a way that compliments the newness of his arrival.

Ludwig still hasn’t shut the door behind him. Chilly air sweeps into the front of Lovino’s home, reviving the air that has been stagnating quietly all night.

Damn the cold, Lovino doesn’t care. 

Trusting Ludwig’s hands to stay at his face, he resumes wrapping his arms tightly around the barrel of his lover’s body. It is the most comfortable he’s been all night.

When Lovino can finally muster up the will to say something, he lifts his head slightly so that just his nose and lips are still at Ludwig’s chest. His eyes are free to look up at the face of the man he’s been thinking of almost incessantly since he’s last seen him.

“Sorry there’s no snow,” he mumbles.

Ludwig’s brow lifts in surprise; it is the last thing he expects to come from Lovino’s mouth.

He uses his hands, already at Lovino’s jaw, to tilt his face upwards so he can pull him in for a soft kiss. Lovino’s eyes flutter shut, only some of the tension leaving his brow as he yields to the movement of Ludwig’s mouth. At the back of his mind, he notices that his lips are cold too, as is his nose which presses into Lovino’s cheek as he angles his face to banish every last bit of distance in the small, intimate gesture.

“Mm, there might not be snow, but there’s you.”

The sentiment makes the ragged ache in Lovino’s chest deepen.

He throws his arms around Ludwig’s neck and pulls him into a kiss, this one desperate enough to quash any other sappy thing he might have to say. Lovino steps back to pull his lover further into his home; even looking at the front door makes his nerves prickle uneasily again. 

Ludwig scarcely has time to reach for the handle behind him to tug it shut before he is pulled further inside.

“I missed you so damned  _ much _ ,” Lovino breathed, his brow furrowing.

“I missed you too.”

“You made me wait so  _ long _ .” 

The glare Lovino shoots him after is just so him that Ludwig can’t help but laugh, simple and carefree, even if he’s infuriatingly late and mind-numbingly exhausted.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

They linger in Lovino’s living room only long enough for him to push Ludwig’s coat off of his shoulders where it is forgotten before it even hits the floor. Then Lovino is walking Ludwig up the stairs in a tangle of arms and lips, where the bedroom awaits. It has been a long night for the both of them.

At his back, the radio sings wistfully to an empty room;  _ I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams. _

  
  



End file.
